


without mythologies;

by illusion_flight



Category: the GazettE
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 21:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illusion_flight/pseuds/illusion_flight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happens during the summer of their last year at the high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	without mythologies;

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: R
> 
> Originally written on March 23rd, 2011.

_But now I will give up on this wall that I have fought with,  
never uncover meaning behind our rich words.  
If I could I would make you a raging river,  
with angry rapids, supplied with rain,  
so you could always meander  
and forever be able to run away  
without contending with myths wrongly interpreted  
_   
**the weakerthans　・　without mythologies**

 

It happens during the summer of their last year at the high school.

Akira walks towards Kouyou´s house, his uniform shirt out of the trousers, his hair mess. It is hot, humid, horrible outside and sun is shining on his head and he thinks of a documentary about life in deserts he saw a few days ago. He almost starts running.

 

Kouyou doesn´t come to school that day and Akira doesn´t know why.

They always skip the classes together; this is the first time it´s different. That bastard. So Akira makes an excuse up and flees the training he knows he alone couldn´t stand. They arranged an after-school gaming anyway; no harm in starting sooner. Akira unbuttons first two buttons under his neck.

 

The front door is unlocked. It is never unlocked.  

Akira remembers it is the day when Kouyou´s whole family expect him is supposed to be away; he cannot be bothered to ring nor knock. The kitchen on the right, the stairs to the bedrooms on the left. Akira slips out of his trainers and heads upwards, his feet leaving sweaty prints on the polished wood. He leaps over the-second-before-last stair because he knows it creaks, and the motherfucker would notice him before he manages to freak the hell out of him.

 

The AC is, weirdly enough, switched off. And up there it´s been always closer to the sun.

It´s easy to find Kouyou´s room and not because his name is written on a small board hung on the wall next to it written in shaky, small scribble; it´s stupid. There is some shuffling behind the door that is closed but not completely. Akira can hear muffled sighs, and his guts twist, churn. He pushes the door with his palm so it opens only a little.

 

It is hot, humid, horrible inside and _sun_ is shining into his eyes.

A girl lying on her back, arms around Kouyou´s neck loose, legs around his hips tight. Kouyou´s mentioned the girl to Akira every day for the last 3 months. Akira always laughs nervously, punches Kouyou´s arm too hard and _pretends_ he is jealous. Now he stands there, in the corridor, cold air comes from _nowhere_ and sends chills down his spine. Kouyou looks up, his pupils are dilated, irises black from excitement, from shock. He doesn´t stop. His damp lips part. He pulls the girl up and into his lap and with her back to Akira.

And Akira can see everything and he doesn´t look away. He leans against the wall opposite the room, and his eyes sting, and his mouth are dry, and his cock is half hard. His ears are full of soft moans coming from the girl. He wishes he could gulp down some saliva at least, he is sure this is how that guy from the documentary felt – he wants to vomit - because he watches what he watches because he watches someone having sex because he watches Kouyou having sex with someone, with a girl, he watches Kouyou. Akira is hard; he tightens a grip on a strap of his bag and locks his eyes with Kouyou´s just for a few seconds before he throws his head backwards in a final wave.

 

Akira leaps over the third stair because he knows it creaks, and the motherfucker would notice him before he manages to freak the hell out of him.

It is hot, humid, horrible outside and sun is shining on his head and he thinks of a documentary about life in deserts he saw a few days ago. He almost starts crying. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
